


you should be scared of me

by booksandchocolatecake



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Wylan, F/M, Gangs, Kaz is still murderous, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandchocolatecake/pseuds/booksandchocolatecake
Summary: Kaz is the son of the most wealthy mercher in Ketterdam. He also sells illegal drugs and knows how to kill a man with his bare hands.When his father tires of his criminal activities and attempts to have him murdered, Kaz finds himself rescued by a mysterious Suli girl and thrust into the city’s criminal underbelly.Kaz must win the trust of notorious gang leader Wylan Van Eck - before he gets killed.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	1. Kaz

Kaz screamed. 

He could feel the icy cold water surrounding him, soaking his heavy suit and filling his lungs. He bit back a second cry using all of his willpower. Kaz tried to gasp in a breath but the current pulled him under and he choked on the murky black water that he had inhaled.

He flailed desperately, the end of his trousers caught on a strand of seaweed at the bottom of the canal. His suit only seemed to be weighing him down. He used the last of his remaining strength to pull a penknife from his pocket that, miraculously, hadn’t slipped out. Swimming frantically against the tide, feeling his chest burn from the lack of air, he clumsily opened the knife and cut the weed from where it clung to him. 

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a ripple in the surface of the water, and a dark figure swimming effortlessly towards him like a guardian angel.

***

Kaz opened his eyes slowly, blinking as black spots cleared from his vision. He was beginning to come to when he was overcome by a violent cough. He proceeded to heave out gallons of saltwater and what appeared to be a kind of seaweed onto the cold floor.

Kaz pushed himself up from his elbows, groaning as he did so at the ache that covered his entire body, and looked around.

He was in a dark alley, the only light from a lone lantern that lay next to him. He was still wearing his drenched suit and blazer - remnants of a life he suspected he’d left behind forever. An old blanket had been draped over his shoulders by his mysterious saviour.

What had happened that had got him here? The events of the previous afternoon (judging by the position of the sun in the sky, that looked like it had just risen) were coming back to Kaz in flashes. He must have been unconscious for nearly a day. The last thing Kaz could recall that made any sense was his father telling him he was sending him to a school for ‘troubled children’ miles away from Ketterdam.

In other words, Kaz’s father was getting rid of him.

Kaz had never been a happy child. Whilst the other mercher’s children were happy to play their playground games, oblivious to the harsh world that lay beyond the safety of the Geldstraat, and, as time moved on, learn to be good merchers from their fathers, Kaz wanted more. Always more. 

When he was younger, that meant scaring the other children with tales of throats of rich sons' throats slit under the cover of darkness, and stealing his favourite kind of sweet from Cook after Father had told him he was allowed no more. As he grew, it began to mean selling drugs to wealthy sons who were unsatisfied with their lives, and teaching himself thirty ways to kill a man with his bare hands. Even the supposedly squeaky clean life of the rich had its dark corners, if you looked hard enough.

When Kaz’s father had announced he was sending him away, Kaz was ecstatic. He supposed his father had assumed he would be upset about leaving the only life he’d ever known, but he’d only felt glee. His father had grown tired of his antics, or ‘attention-seeking’ as he liked to call it, and Kaz had finally managed to push him over the edge when he stole his precious De Kappel and led him to believe it had been taken by a notorious gang called The Dregs. 

Kaz himself looked up to The Dregs’ infamous leader, Wylan Van Eck, whose name was revered in dark corners and shady taverns, and only among circles that were less than savory. He was known for his ruthless methods of retrieving information, and inexplicable power over every criminal in the Barrel. Some were afraid to say his name in more than a whisper, as if the act itself would summon the man and his wrath.

Kaz had heard rumours that Wylan was only eighteen himself, but they were only whispers, and he’d brushed them off as pure superstition.

He’d believed he couldn’t leave Ketterdam and his father’s iron rule quicker. As he sat on the boat two hours later, clutching only a small suitcase filled with his meager belongings - he’d never been one for excessive possessions - he had fantasised about another life. One where he could run away from his fancy boarding school and join a gang of criminals, put his extensive knowledge of violence to use. 

He was so caught in the fantasy he was taken by surprise when the two men his father had paid to accompany him tossed him over the side of the boat, into the freezing Ketterdam canals.

It didn’t take long for Kaz to put it together. He’d never been the kind of boy who glossed over the truth in favour of a nicer illusion.

His father had tried to have him killed. It made perfect sense. He’d figured out his father’s new, young, wife was pregnant weeks ago - weeks before his father knew. Of course he’d try to rid himself of his troublesome, delinquent son now his line was secured. 

Kaz didn’t have any feelings left for his father. Only an anger that the man had denied Kaz the life he deserved - a life of crime. If so, then why did he feel such a gaping hole in his stomach at the thought of his father ordering his demise?

It was then that Kaz came back to himself, and noticed the Suli girl. She was sitting on a blanket beside another lantern, in the corner of the alley. She was cleaning a wet knife with the end of her blanket. Her dark braid and black trousers were both dripping with water. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant.

Kaz forced his body up, and he walked up to the girl, who was so engrossed in cleaning her knives - Kaz could now see she was holding more than one - she didn’t notice him coming. He tapped her on the shoulder. Without pause, she pulled a clean knife from her belt and held it against Kaz’s throat. He froze, and she looked him over before releasing him suspiciously.

He could see his pocket knife on the blanket beside one of the girl’s many weapons. She must have taken it from him whilst he was asleep. She saw him glance at it and hissed ‘don’t even think about it’ into his ear.

Kaz slumped his shoulders, as if he were giving up. The girl relaxed, and Kaz wrapped his arms around her throat, shoving her against the alley wall. She struggled, trying to reach one of her knives, but they were secured to her belt, and he had both of her arms pinned to the wall with his fists.

The girl simply grinned. “You do realise I would have let you go if you hadn’t just shown me how talented you are?”

Kaz realised his mistake a second too late. The girl broke free of his hold, as if she had never been under his control in the first place - perhaps she hadn’t - and twisted his arm behind his back, so hard he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out. For all the reading Kaz had done on attack techniques, he’d never had any real life experience until this moment.

The girl pinned Kaz to the alley floor, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath on his skin, the end of her braid scraping his neck. As Kaz struggled, he pushed up abruptly, causing her cheek to briefly brush his forehead. At the sudden touch, she recoiled, staggering back to the corner of the alley, an expression of disgust frozen on her face. 

Kaz was left panting in a heap, nursing his wounded pride, if he had any left. He held his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. Kaz considered himself extremely skilled in fights - especially those where he was not bound by rules. However, he also considered himself a man with common sense, who would not let himself be killed by the first attacker he encountered. Whilst it hurt to admit, it seemed that, given her significantly larger amount of experience, this girl was easily able to best Kaz in combat.

The girl approached Kaz cautiously. She took out a new knife from one of her boots and gestured for Kaz to hold out his hand. He did so, his arm shaking involuntarily. Cursing his lack of self control, Kaz watched in horror as the girl cut into the edge of his palm and created a mark matching where Kaz had scraped her hand. Blood spilled from the cut, and it stung like hell, but Kaz gritted his teeth and waited for the pain to pass. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t sustained much worse injuries from his father’s ferocious tempers.

The girl nodded in approval at his restraint, and tossed him a bandage from her bag. She was already using the other to cover her own hand.

She smiled. “Now we’re even.”

If Kaz wasn’t so scared of her, he would have rolled his eyes.

The Suli girl gave Kaz five minutes to wrap his wound before dragging him up by the arm. He was long past the stage where he would have tried to protest.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Kaz sighed, and tried again. “At least tell me your name, if you’re going to hold me hostage.”

“This isn’t a hostage situation.” Kaz tried to protest and the girl raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want it to be.”

Kaz decided that from then on he should keep his untrustworthy mouth shut. 

“By the way, it’s Inej.” said the girl. “My name is Inej.” She looked him over. “Hopefully you’ll find I’m not too bad once we’re sure you’re not from a rival gang.”

Kaz’s breath caught in his throat at the mention of gangs. This girl was from a gang? Now he thought it over, it made sense. Perhaps the situation was closer to Kaz’s plans than he had imagined. As long as he made sure that this gang didn’t kill him first.

“I’m Kaz. Kaz Brekker.”

It was Inej’s turn for her mouth to fall open. “Brekker? Merchant Council Brekker? As in, the most powerful mercher in Ketterdam Brekker?”

“I’m his son.” replied Kaz half heartedly. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Inej. He hoped he’d be able to build up such a reputation that one day, the name Brekker would not only make people think of his father.

Inej’s grip on his arm tightened. “When I saved you from that river, I didn’t realise I’d be bringing back such a catch.”

Kaz scowled. Of course that was what Inej would think of, instead of the skills he had displayed during the fight.

“I’m not going to get you any money. I was in the river because my father tried to have me killed. If you send him a hostage letter, all you’ll get back is an order to get rid of me yourselves.”

All Inej could let out was a small “Oh.”

They stood in silence whilst Inej packed the two wet blankets into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. As she got ready to leave the alley, she broke the uncomfortable quiet.

“I didn’t know mercher’s sons could fight like that.”

“They don’t.” said Kaz. “Most of them, at least. They’re all spoiled brats.”

“Is that a self description?”

Kaz let out a dry laugh, devoid of any humour.

“I assume your affinity for violence is part of the reason your father attempted to have you killed?”

“I’ll let you guess.”

“Well,” said Inej. “You’ll certainly fit in in the Barrel.”

Kaz froze. “The Barrel?” he asked, too scared to hope.

“I assume observation isn’t one of your best qualities.”

Kaz turned around to the alley exit. He’d been so caught up in the shock of the river, and then the fight, that he hadn’t thought to look. 

Outside the alley was West Stave. Actors in Comedie Brute costumes ran up and down the street, and workers in colourful clothes enticed tourists into flashy gambling dens and bright pleasure houses. Kaz had never seen this part of Ketterdam for himself. His father had closed the carriage curtains, blocked out the noise with lectures on the economy. It was just as marvelous as Kaz had imagined.

Before Kaz could take in everything he saw, Inej pulled him out of the alley and onto the street. He was ambushed by loud noises and bright colours, and it was nothing like anything he’d seen before. 

He snuck a glance at Inej. She looked less enthralled by the sight of the women in feathers crowded in the entrances to pleasure houses, and the men in top hats handing out ‘Free passes! Valid for one day only!’

Inej took Kaz away from West Stave quickly, seeming to relax only when they’d left the manic, beautiful street behind. 

“You fought well.” she said finally. “Wylan will be impressed with you. And I’m sure your story will help sway him.”

It was then Inej adjusted her bandage, and Kaz noticed the crow and cup tattoo on her forearm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments I need validation and motivation to continue this fic. Literally just say “kanej. yes.” it fills my heart with glee.


	2. Wylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wylan meets Kaz and hears his story.

Wylan hit the punch bag. It swung back violently and bounced against the wall. He gave the bag a final kick, and pulled off his gloves, discarding them on a nearby table to find his knuckles cracked and bloody. He swore under his breath and made a mental note to find some bandages later. Wylan was preparing to leave when the door creaked open. He spun around, preparing himself for an attack.

“Relax. It’s just me.” said Jesper, Wylan’s second in command, from the doorway.

The tension in Wylan’s body eased. “I told you not to sneak up on me like that.”

“Not my fault you were so caught up in destroying that poor punch bag you didn’t hear me coming.”

Wylan sighed. “It’s a punch bag, Jesper. What else would it be used for?”

“Maybe it has a wife and kids at home!”

Wylan smirked and pushed off the wall. “Don’t assume its sexuality.”

Jesper groaned and tossed Wylan his white shirt from where it lay neatly folded in a pile on the floor. “Inej is here. She’s got some half-dead kid with her.”

Wylan threw off his sweat soaked t-shirt and took a towel that Jesper was holding to wipe his brow. Exercise had never been his favourite pastime, but he had to hold his own in fights somehow. He’d learned that the hard way. Intellect and strategic planning only got you so far in the Barrel.

“Do you think she saved the kid from the streets?”

Jesper shrugged. “That sounds more like your thing than Inej’s. And the kid looked pretty well fed. Just really pale, and dripping wet.”

“The kid’s not the only one.” muttered Wylan under his breath, eyeing his damp ‘exercise’ shirt. He tugged on the new shirt and trousers he’d left in the corner in anticipation. 

Wylan looked himself over a final time in the cracked hallway mirror, pulling on his suit jacket over his shirt and covering his hands with the black leather gloves that had come to be known as his signature accessory. If only he wore them purely for aesthetic purposes.

Wylan threw open the doors of his office, preparing himself to plan the Dregs’ next trade. 

“Wait!” shouted Jesper. “I forgot to tell you-”

He was too late. Wylan was already in the room by the time he noticed the chair in the corner of his office was occupied. In it sat a pale boy with dripping black hair, who had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was looking at it with a degree of suspicion, and his white shirt was soaked through. 

Inej leant against the wall, wringing water out of her black braid and glancing at the clock tiredly.

When Wylan entered the room, the boy sat up abruptly. He seemed to be trying to turn his expression into one of casual nonchalance, and was failing sorely. 

“Mr Van Eck.” said the boy. 

He would have been easier to take seriously if his voice hadn’t cracked midway through the sentence.

Wylan lowered himself into his chair and leant forward, looking the boy over.

“Who’s this, Inej? And why do you both look like you decided to take a swim in the canals?”

Inej glanced at the boy. “In fact, that is exactly what happened.” She gestured to the boy, who hadn’t taken his eyes from Wylan since he saw him. “This is Kaz.”

Kaz sighed. “Don’t forget the important part. I’m Brekker. Kaz Brekker.”

Wylan’s eyes widened in shock, then horror as he put it together. He turned to Inej, glaring at her. “I told you never to take hostages. We’re not some heartless bastards like the Dime Lions.”

“Not really the reputation you’re supposed to be keeping up, Wylan.” muttered Jesper.

“That’s not what this is.” said Inej, shaking her head. “He came of his own free will. He’s trying to impress you.”

Wylan raised a brow. “He’s trying to impress me, notorious criminal and hater of the rich elite, by telling me he’s related to the wealthiest snob in Ketterdam?”

“Not just related. I’m his son.”

Wylan stared at Kaz. “That’s even worse.”

“I’m not boasting.” said Kaz. “I’m not too fond of him either. He tried to have me killed. But I got your attention, didn’t I?”

“Oh. That’s why you’re here.” said Wylan. “Not because you were forced to. Because you want something from me.”

Kaz sat up straighter, smirking. “I’d like to join the Dregs.”

Wylan nearly laughed, except it was clear that Kaz was completely serious. 

“You, a mercher’s son, want to join my gang?” 

Wylan looked to his side and saw that Jesper was also amused by Kaz’s boldness.

“I see you’re not convinced.”

“Very observant.” commented Jesper.

“I told you to lead with the ‘alone in the city with no money and barely alive’ part.” said Inej.

Kaz rolled his eyes. “As if that would have done me any good.” He turned to look at Wylan directly. “What Inej wants me to tell you is that my father tried to have me drowned because I’ve not been a good boy. Apparently, good boys don’t sell other rich boys drugs that end up killing them, or knock their tutors unconscious for trying to hit them.”

At the mention of drowning, bile rose in Wylan’s throat. He could feel himself in that river, clinging to the raft, the bodies around him, clouding his vision. He was screaming, crying, trying to move but he couldn’t and all there was was this, this nightmare that would never end. Alys-

Wylan shook himself and he was back in the present. He swallowed. It was over now. It had been over for ten years. 

Jesper gave him a worried look, but Wylan waved him off. Jesper had a way of knowing when Wylan was back in that dark place that had never truly left him after so long.

“Why didn’t you lead with that? If Inej has told you about my penchant for taking in the unfortunate, why not play up your misfortunes?”

Kaz leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to be another sad, abandoned boy here. I don’t want to be thrown in with the others when I could be very useful to you.”

“If you want to be a mindless criminal who can kill whoever you want, go to the Dime Lions. I have no interest in violence for the sake of it.”

“You want to take down the rich. I want to get revenge on my father. Don’t try to tell me our interests don’t align.”

“Okay.” said Wylan. “Let’s say I let you join the Dregs. You help me, and we take down your father. What then? Do you continue to commit disgusting acts, but in my name?”

“You have my word that I will only ever commit crime on your order.”

Wylan had a hard time believing that, but he kept his mouth shut.

“One last thing.”

He stood up and punched Kaz. Kaz immediately kicked Wylan in the thigh so he stumbled backwards. Wylan threw another punch but Kaz dodged it and pinned Wylan to the wall. Wylan broke free after struggling for a few seconds and smiled.

“You can fight. Good.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to the Dregs. Don’t let me down.”

***

Wylan was annoyed. The East Stave refuge hadn’t replied to his letters for two weeks. He’d been trying to plan a visit, but how was he supposed to come if they wouldn’t even open his correspondence? He told himself they simply hadn’t seen it, that if he sent another letter they’d be sure to respond, but there was a niggling feeling telling him something was wrong. 

Wylan didn’t tend to make decisions based on gut feelings, but he was convinced that something had happened. He had opened his refuge for women and Grisha three years ago when he first took over the Dregs, and they’d never fallen out of contact before.

Jesper held open the door to his bedroom, seeing that Wylan was lost in his thoughts. Without him, Wylan would have crashed into the wall. Deadly, coordinated gang leader indeed.

Wylan nearly knocked over a stray paint can on the floor, narrowly avoiding stepping on a blank canvas. He slumped onto his bed. The cushions were sad and thin, but they were better than anything Wylan would have had during his years on the streets. 

The walls were dotted with paintings that had built up over the years. They ranged from bright renditions of the farm from Wylan’s childhood to violent splashes of darkness that had been created in his worst moments. Only once had Wylan tried to paint when he fell into that dark place in the river, and the resulting painting had been torn apart so completely by his erratic strokes that he’d been forced to burn it. 

He’d painted Jesper, too, not that he’d ever work up the courage to tell him. As far as Jesper and Inej - the two people allowed into his room - knew, the only ones he painted were his parents, long dead. 

He couldn’t bear to paint Alys, his older sister. He’d never been able to. He couldn’t think of her face, alive and happy, without her lifeless eyes, her sickly white skin on the raft flashing before his eyes. And he’d never been the type egotistical enough to want to immortalise his own face.

Wylan wished he could decorate his office as he did his room, with art and colour, but, as Jesper liked to remind him, he had a reputation to uphold. How could he be the single most feared man in the Barrel if his office, where he often met with members of rival gangs and other enemies, was filled with art? He’d accepted that he had to keep his hobbies confined to his room and his room only.

Wylan had long questioned if this was where he was supposed to be. How could he be cut out to be a gang leader, if he wished he could play flute with the musicians in the street, and dreamed of showing his art, which he poured his heart and soul into, to more than two people?

He’d often wondered what could have happened if he’d never been abandoned in Ketterdam with only Alys, and later with no one at all. If he’d never met Jesper passed out in a corner of a shitty gambling den, then Inej after she escaped from the Menagerie. Where would he be if they’d never encouraged him to use his skill with chemicals to climb his way to the top, then use his influence to help people?

Wylan had never been the ruthless one. Inej was quick to hurt those who did wrong, worshiping her Saints all the while, and Jesper always seemed happier than he ever was after a shoot-out. Wylan had learnt to simultaneously be hard-hearted and never lose sight of his true goal; helping people in situations like he and Inej and Jesper had been in.

It had taken a long time for Wylan to rise from his despair when Alys died. He spent two years shivering on the streets, surviving on rotten food he stole from the other children. He’d nearly starved more times than he could count. The winter cold had taken everyone when the later months of the year came. Only his ability to make fires and therefore, heat, out of anything, had kept him alive. Barely alive. He remembered wishing he’d died of the fever along with Alys. What kind of life was one with all the light sucked out?

It had been in the spring Wylan turned twelve when he arrived, shaking, on the doorstep of a gambling den, so thin his ribs were showing. He’d overheard a waitress complaining that the kitchen cleaning boy had disappeared, and ran to the den before anyone could get there first. He was hired on the spot. 

Wylan managed to eke out a living for himself from the den’s meagre wages. He earned enough that he was able to pay for a cramped bed in a shared room at a local inn, and could afford an old slice of bread a day. By then, it felt like living in luxury.

Jesper was a regular at the den. They didn’t regulate the age of their attendees, as long as they earned the den money, but Jesper was by far the youngest there. Every evening he would come in, wearing his fancy university clothes, and gamble away every penny he put on the table. Wylan felt a sort of annoyance at his selfishness. He had everything Wylan could only dream of, and he chose to gamble it away. 

Wylan had been working at the den for three months, and Jesper hadn’t not come a single day, when he found him collapsed in an alley behind the den. Initially, Wylan assumed he was drunk. He helped Jesper up out of a sense of obligation and found that the boy had been crying for hours. He told Wylan that he’d gone too far this time, got involved in something he couldn’t get out of. He’d gambled away everything, got kicked out of the university. He didn’t even have somewhere to sleep at night.

Wylan helped sneak him into the boarding house he was staying at, in exchange for the survival skills Jesper claimed he could teach Wylan. Since that day, Jesper and Wylan had helped each other. Wylan couldn’t say at which point it had turned from convenience to a bond of the deepest kind. Only that Jesper knew Wylan like no one else in the world.

They met Inej two years later, when she broke into the Slat and begged them to let her join them. They hadn’t joined the Dregs yet then. They had plans, though, and growing notoriety. Plans to help people. Plans to become bigger than themselves. 

Inej had escaped from the Menagerie with the help of a Grisha girl at another pleasure house. She’d heard talk of a duo of teenagers gaining influence in the Barrel, and came to threaten them into letting her join them. Wylan heard her tale of being taken from her home and forced to work for men’s pleasure, and had to try not to be violently sick. He let her join them immediately, and soon neither Jesper nor Wylan could remember a time when she wasn’t part of their group.

After that, it wasn’t long before they took over the Dregs and their names became known all over Ketterdam.

Jesper touched Wylan lightly on the shoulder to shake him out of his haze. He felt bile rise in his throat at the touch, and forced it down.

Wylan glanced up at Jesper. He looked concerned.

“What is it?”

Jesper looked away.

“Tell me, Jesper.”

Jesper sighed. “I’m sorry, Wylan. I just heard.” Wylan felt his stomach turn. “The East Stave refuge was shut down. The people were forced out. It’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated so much to help motivate me to continue this fic! It helps so much and literally makes me so happy, especially after the first chapter when people can’t leave kudos again.


	3. Kaz and Wylan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesper takes Kaz out for a night in the Barrel, whilst Inej and Wylan investigate what happened to the refuge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for gambling addictions and underage drinking/general drunkness for this chapter.

Kaz crossed his arms.

“I’m not going to a gambling den.”

“It’ll be fun!” exclaimed Jesper. “You can loosen up. Meet some girls.”

Kaz raised an eyebrow.

“Or boys! I won’t assume.”

“I don’t know if this has occurred to you yet, Jesper, but I’m exactly not the type who wants to go out partying.”

Jesper threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’ll enjoy yourself when you get there.”

“That is the last thing I want to do.” said Kaz. “Why don’t you go with Wylan and leave me alone?”

Jesper glanced at the door to Wylan’s office and looked away quickly. “That’s not an option.”

Wylan didn’t support Jesper’s obvious penchant for gambling. Interesting. Kaz tucked away that particular piece of information for later.

“Come on, Kaz. It’s tradition for new Dregs to spend a night on West Stave!” Seeing Kaz’s stony expression, Jesper sighed. “Look, you’re not from around here, right? I can show you around. Scout the territory or whatever.”

“I can do that on my own.”

“You’d be lost within minutes. Not to mention the gang members who are ready to jump out and kill you.”

“I can defend myself.”

“Against six people? I’m Wylan Van Eck’s second-in-command. I have automatic protection.”

Kaz didn't say anything for a while.

“Fine.” said Kaz. “I’ll come with you. But if you try to force me to join any other pointless revels, I’ll be gone by the time you’ve blinked.”

Jesper grinned and slung his arm around Kaz’s shoulders, laughing. “That’s the spirit!”

Kaz had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

***

Wylan sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the cracks on the wall. He felt numb. Empty. The East Stave refuge was gone. Truly gone. He couldn’t stop seeing their faces. The women. The Grisha. The children. Where could they go now? What if they’d been taken by one of the owners of the pleasure houses? What if they were dead? There were weak, ill, people there, people who wouldn’t survive a week on the streets.

Nina was there. Nina, one of the first friends Wylan made in Ketterdam after Inej and Jesper. She was the one who had helped Inej escape. They’d broken her out shortly after. She and Inej had been the ones to convince Wylan to open the refuge. Nina was a ball of energy, a ray of sunshine in the dark Barrel. She always knew how to put a smile on Wylan’s face. He didn’t know how to process that she might be gone.

Wylan was supposed to be the most powerful criminal in Ketterdam. He was supposed to be these people’s protector. He was supposed to be able to stop things like this happening. He’d done everything, committed every last sin, so that he could shelter them. 

He’d told them they were safe in his care. That no harm would come to them. He was a liar.

Wylan heard a knock at his window. He turned, and saw Inej climbing in. She hoisted her leg over the windowsill and closed the window, leaning back against the pane without acknowledging Wylan. He came closer and settled beside her. He could see tears glistening on her cheeks. 

“Did Jesper tell-”

Inej nodded.

Wylan let out a strangled sob. She pulled him close, and held him wordlessly. Wylan gripped her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. Inej was one of the few people Wylan allowed to touch him, and it was what both of them needed at that moment. She and Nina had always felt like older sisters to Wylan, even after Alys, now more than ever.

“Nina-” choked out Wylan.

“I know.” whispered Inej, her voice cracking. Another tear slid down her cheek.

Wylan began to cry and Inej clasped his hand tighter, his head resting on her shoulder.

Wylan swallowed, his hands shaking slightly. “Has Jesper realised?”

Inej cast her gaze away. “No. Nina only told us she was staying there. She didn’t want to worry Jesper.”

“He wants to take Kaz out on West Stave. He’s going gambling again, Inej. He thinks I don’t know.”

“Let him have one more happy night, Wylan.” Inej squeezed his hand. “We’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“I’m worried about him. What if this is the thing that pushes him over the edge?”

Inej was silent for a long time. 

“I don’t know, Wylan. I don’t know.”

***

Jesper pulled Kaz into the street and did a little spin to show off his lime green trousers and yellow polka dot blazer. Kaz followed reluctantly. Jesper had forced him to exchange his days old black suit for a dark purple one from his own wardrobe. It was far more colour than Kaz was used to, but it seemed to be the most subdued item Jesper owned. Kaz had to refuse a neon pink tie five times before Jesper let it go. 

The entire ensemble was incredibly garish, and surely didn’t help Jesper's reputation as Wylan’s second in command. If Kaz had known joining a gang would involve so many blindingly bright clothing choices, he might have reconsidered.

Jesper did another twirl to show his mismatched ensemble to an unimpressed group of tattooed men walking by. Kaz didn’t understand how he could be so brazen. This was the Barrel, the most dangerous area of Ketterdam. The nearby gangs could kill him without a second thought. Surely Jesper understood that - he was in one himself. His connection to Wylan must only grant him so much protection. Despite being told of his great skills as a sharpshooter, mostly by Jesper himself, Kaz had yet to see his value so high up in the Dregs.

The sun was going down, and the alley was nearly shrouded in darkness, which only raised Kaz’s guard. He’d half expected Jesper’s clothes to light the early evening. It was late enough in the year that the night came early, and there was a chill to the air that made Kaz pull Jesper’s navy blue blazer closer.

Jesper grinned and nudged Kaz in an attempt to make him look more enthusiastic. Kaz grimaced harder. Jesper led him down the alley so quickly Kaz could have tripped over. 

The silence was deafening. The sole sounds came from the faraway West Stave, but it was quiet enough that Kaz could hear his and Jesper’s breath in the cool winter air.

It was due to this that when the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety being removed echoed around the alley, Jesper and Kaz froze in unison.

Kaz reached into his pocket for the knife Wylan had given him earlier, but Jesper was faster. He whipped out his gun and spun towards a precise corner of the alley. A bullet was flying before Kaz could process what had happened, and a body crumpled forward from the shadows. There was a spreading red stain in the place of its heart. Jesper turned around, and he had a manic sparkle in his eyes.

Perhaps Kaz had underestimated him.

Within minutes, they reached West Stave. Bright gambling dens stretched across the street, and dancers from the pleasure houses advertised their wares in the centre of the road. There were no carriages to be seen, only endless streams of tourists crowding the sidewalks and entrances. It was more frenzied than when Kaz had seen it that morning. He could barely move without being elbowed or shoved aside. Jesper and Kaz found themselves sucked into the crowd, which Jesper seemed to be able to navigate with ease. 

Jesper tugged Kaz’s sleeve and dragged him towards a neon lit bar named ‘Dirty Habit.’

“This is the best bar in the city.” whispered Jesper in Kaz’s ear. “Their beer can knock you straight out.”

Being ‘knocked straight out’ by an alcoholic drink was not a description of a pleasant evening for Kaz, but he said nothing and followed Jesper inside. Hopefully they’d get to the ‘showing around’ part soon, although he was beginning to severely doubt Jesper’s intentions to use him as anything more than a drinking partner.

The inside of the bar was as overdone as the out. It looked exactly like the kind of place Jesper would love. Streamers had been draped over the walls in an attempt to hide questionable dark red stains. The bartender looked more like a career criminal than a man invested in the selling of alcohol. Kaz could barely hear himself think over the shouts of large muscled men holding even larger drinks. Knowing these sort of places, it wouldn’t be long before a fight broke out.

Jesper waved to the bartender, who seemed familiar with him, and grabbed him and Kaz seats in the corner. He ordered himself a beer and Kaz whiskey without his input (‘you look like you need it’) and by the time Jesper had drained three pints of beer, Kaz had been dragged back onto the street.

Jesper, who clearly had trouble holding his alcohol, stumbled towards the closest gambling den and Kaz couldn’t do anything but follow. Kaz’s own vision was slightly blurry, though he’d never admit it to himself. He’d been so confident that a glass of whiskey would barely affect him. He wasn’t going to accept defeat now.

Kaz only saw a whir of colour and gambling machines before he found himself at a Makkers Wheel, and then Jesper had put 300 kruge on the table. Time spun forward before his eyes. Soon, Jesper’s pockets were empty, but he didn’t care because he’d already moved onto the next game, the next gamble, the next lie. Kaz was caught in the euphoria of it all. He’d never been allowed to be free before - not truly free. Not with his father watching his every move. Kaz had never imagined the other side of Ketterdam could be so beautiful. So intoxicating.

He saw out of the corner of his eye an intimidating man talking to Jesper. He was wearing a black suit and looked important. Jesper was making over exaggerated motions with his hands, clearly slurring his words. Kaz hurried over as quickly as he could, his head spinning from the whiskey. 

“Leave this establishment right now, Mr Fahey, or you’ll regret it.”

The illusion fell away. Kaz’s vision cleared and sharpened, now intently focused on this stranger.

“I’m- I’m not Fahey!” slurred Jesper. “I’m… uh…. Faney. Yeah that’s me, Mr Faney. You’ve got the wrong man!”

“I know who you are.” said the man. “You’ve visited every month for the last year. And you’ve got thousands of kruge’s worth of debt to pay.”

Jesper’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out.

“Go, Mr Fahey, if you want to live another day, and I expect to find all the kruge you owe brought here by tomorrow.” Jesper began to protest and the man cut him off. “Unless you want me to approach your boss to get the money?”

Jesper froze and began to shake his head erratically. 

Before he could dig himself into an even bigger hole, Kaz took him by the arm and dragged him out of the gambling den.

The cold evening air hit Kaz like a punch. The den had been so stuffy he’d begun to lose himself in the haze. He was brought to his senses, and, as the impact of what had happened hit him, he turned to Jesper angrily. The sharpshooter clung to Kaz’s arm, still drunk out of his mind. 

“Please, Kaz! Give me the money!”

Kaz sneered. “You think I have a single kruge to my name?”

Jesper whimpered pitifully. “What about your father? Isn’t he rich?”

“I’m not going back to that place just to help you with your gambling addiction.” snapped Kaz. “I met you this morning. Besides, you’d lose the money at the Makker’s Wheel within a week.”

Jesper flinched as if he’d been attacked.

“Nothing you say is going to convince me.”

Jesper leant forward hopefully, wobbling on his feet. He winked.

“How about this?”

Jesper kissed Kaz sloppily, his breath stinking of beer. Kaz pushed him away, disgusted. Jesper stumbled back and Kaz walked away, rage filling his veins. 

Jesper tried to follow but Kaz quickened his pace. He turned around to look at the sorry figure of Jesper one last time, his shirt covered in beer stains and expression solemn.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Jesper?”

***

Wylan and Inej entered the ruins of the East Stave Refuge slowly. He surveyed the damage as if in a dream. A sick, twisted nightmare. There was nothing left of its former residents besides abandoned possessions and the blood stains covering the walls. They’d been forced out so suddenly they hadn’t even had the chance to bring their belongings.

Wylan walked closer to Inej, feeling his stomach churn. She gave a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but it meant nothing to him. Not in the face of this horrific destruction.

Inej glimpsed a piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up suspiciously, and read the contents slowly. She waved Wylan over, her fists clenched.

“It’s a merchant council notice. It says the cease and desist was ordered by Arthur Brekker. Kaz’s father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all comments so much, they mean a lot to me and literally keep me going. I don't know what I'd do without you guys.


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